Phantom of the Opera
by shadowphantomness
Summary: Ashline, a chorus girl, receives mysterious lessons from an Angel of Music. Now if only she knew who he was… and she stopped receiving attentions from Brock… *Het Championshipping (Lance x Ash), one-sided Bouldershipping (Brock x Ash)* COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

Looks like I'm back to juggling several fics at the same time. Damn writer's block…

Disclaimer: Pokemon belongs to Nintendo and Shogakukan Comics. This non-profit, non-copyright infringing fanfiction belongs to me under international copyright laws and taking it is plagiarism. Thank you. *Phantomness bows*

Notes: () for telepathy, ** for thoughts, _italics_ if a pokemon talks

Additionally, Phantom of the Opera belongs to… er, Gaston Leroux I believe, and the musical belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber, the book Phantom belongs to Susan Kay, the book Angel of the Opera to Sam Siliciano… I think that's all I drew from…

Ash Ketchum = Ashline Ketchum (Christine)

Lance Dragyn = the Phantom

Brock Slate = Raoul de Chagny

Other characters are minor roles, etcetera…

* * *

Chapter 1 – Ashline

_I think I've gone mad._

_ I have heard the voice of the Angel of Music._

_ Oh I can easily imagine it. A few hundred years from now, someone will find this diary, and shake their heads, and after I've been carted off to the asylum they'll say, ah, Ashline, we always knew there was something wrong with that girl…_

_ I know it doesn't make any sense – it shouldn't make sense, I've found no reason for it to make sense, but it makes perfect sense! Who else would sing me to sleep with such a sweet voice? I haven't heard it for more than a week, but it's wonderful…_

_ Father promised to send me the angel of music… he said that when he was in heaven, he would send him, and now I hear his voice…_

_ So Father must have kept his promise…_

_ It's odd – I learn so much from him – well, angels are male, aren't they? At least I think so – I haven't seen him of course, divine visitations only come in dreams and I'm certainly not worthy of something face-to-face like the Virgin Mary…_

_ But he teaches me. He cares for me… and I feel his presence when he gives me my daily lesson. My voice truly is getting better._

_ I… I wonder if I might be falling in love._

_ I can't! Angels are different… they don't fall in love. I have to take a few deep breaths, get out of this stuffy room…. I'll be back for my lesson tomorrow._

_ I didn't really say anything useful…_

* * *

Ashline closed her journal and sighed it was getting late. She should be going home to her flat. Although her dressing room contained a small couch that could be substituted as a bed, she had no desire to spend a night here… it was scary. They said that the Opera Ghost roamed at night!

Leaving her room, she walked outside, hailed a cab, and rode home to the room where she lived with old Agatha Oak, her guardian now that her father was dead.

Danny had been a magnificent fiddler, truly marvelous…. But he had died two years ago, and now she was alone.

Until she had found her Angel…

* * *

He watched silently as she left, golden eyes bright beneath the half-mask. Interesting. Very interesting. Still too early to tell, but her voice _was_ improving. He moved quietly through the cellars, shadowlike, in an instant, and the ghostly lake rose before them, mists swirling off a dark surface…

There was no boat.

From the water rose several figures. Long, snakelike, deadly, perhaps. Dragonair. His two Dragonair and his Gyarados watched no one would make it to the house across the lake unless he willed it…

_You've returned, Master…_

"Yes." Lance said quietly. "I'm home."

He didn't bother to swim across – that would ruin his black evening wear after all, and his cloak… he removed the flowing garment for a moment, whistling… a gray, so dark it was almost black creature flew out. His Aerodactyl…

Aerodactyl watched as Lance climbed on and then flew him across the lake.

_She is rather attractive._

"Mm."

_A bit young though, don't you think?_

"I've only just started her vocal training. I have plenty of time."

_I hope you're right. I don't want you to be sad, Master…_

"I know. Thank you, dear heart…"

Beneath the Opera was the Phantom's lair, and that was the way it was meant to be…

* * *

The next morning, Ashline was up bright and early for her lesson – no sane person came to the Opera at 7 A.M., but this way, they could have almost two hours alone before the other inhabitants – ballet rats, chorus girls, door-shutters, musicians, underfoot sceneshifters and etcetera came…

She waited, and soon she heard that voice, gentle, soft, and too pretty to be human – sweep around her. "I'm ready, Angel."

"Good, start with your scales..."

It took about fifteen minutes to warm up, and she was slightly worried. She'd gotten a bit of a cold, the winter weather was notoriously unpredictable, and…

She began to cough slightly into the beginning of her range exercises. This was _not_ good…

"Ashline." The voice sounded concerned. "What ails you?"

"I think- I think I have a cold, angel. I'm not sure if I should sing." Ashline looked ashamed. "I'm sorry, I know it's a great honor, and I should not have gone out so late at night, but… I think…"

"Don't. It will strain your voice and damage it worse. Relax. Lie down."

She didn't protest, but walked over to the couch and lay down. Her head was beginning to pound – yes, it seemed like she had gotten a cold after all…

The voice shifted, and the sounds that issued forth now were wordless, almost like a lullaby – yes, almost as if she were a child again and her father was singing her to sleep…

* * *

Satisfied as her eyes closed, Lance touched the counterbalance behind the large mirror that covered one entire wall and stepped forwards. Oh, it was one-way, but it was certainly useful. How else could he watch over her? And she didn't leave the Opera often, so she stayed in his domain where he could keep a better eye on her – or several pairs of eyes.

His dragons roamed the secret passageways, hidden doors – the labyrinth he had built with him, after all…

He carefully placed a white-gloved hand on her forehead. Fever. There was also a touch of dehydration and malnutrition? Odd…

What was she not telling him?

It mattered not now. For now, he had to heal her…

He placed his hands over her body, an inch away – he wasn't going to allow himself to touch her unless absolutely necessary – and concentrated… a pale green glow seeped from his fingers, and she sighed wordlessly.

Good, the fever was gone. He could deal with the food issue later. For now, she needed rest the most…

* * *

End Chapter

Completed 7/26/05

Phantomness: *kicks writer's block hard!

Lance: *laughs* I'm the Phantom?

Ash: I'm Christine?

Kairo: You know, the roles do fit perfectly… the semi-evil older man, the innocent, naïve, dumb, girl…

Ash: Hey!

Shoyko: You seem to be having pronoun troubles Phantomness

Phantomness: Argh! I can't help it! If they're male in fics and female in others, and I'm writing like 4 fics at the same time…! I get them mixed up, okay? And I was tempted to make this shoujo-ai…


	2. Chapter 2

Bunny, don't die please. Damn you physics final…

Disclaimer: Pokemon belongs to Nintendo and Shogakukan Comics. This non-profit, non-copyright infringing fanfiction belongs to me under international copyright laws and taking it is plagiarism. Thank you. *Phantomness bows*

Notes: () for telepathy, ** for thoughts, _italics_ if a pokemon talks

Garina = Gary Oak = Meg Giry in the book/musical

* * *

Chapter 2

She woke up feeling refreshed – she'd had a wonderful dream, a beautiful meadow with flowers and butterflies and the Angel there with her, his large white wings wrapped around her comfortingly. She hadn't been able to see his face of course but he'd had eyes as blue as the sky, she was sure, and golden hair – didn't all angels have that?

She eased herself off the couch, belted on another dressing gown – it was cold, and how late was it? It had to be four or five in the afternoon? Oh no, she'd missed ballet rehearsal!

She gave a startled gasp as she heard a polite cough. "Oh. Eh, hi Garina?"

The ballet girl nodded. Her older sister Karen was the leader of the ballet corps, and she was the prima ballerina and also Ashline's first friend. "Someone told mom – er, I mean Karen that you wouldn't be here for ballet rehearsal since you were sick, so I brought you some tea and toast. Light stuff. Hopefully it won't hurt your stomach?"

Ashline suddenly realized that she was truthfully, quite ravenous and nodded. "Thank you, Garina. This means a lot to me…"

But I didn't do this for you, Garina thought sadly. _He_ did…

The Opera Ghost had taken an interest in Ashline. She should know, being as Karen was his confidante…

Oh, she knew of the Opera Ghost – everyone did, but she was one of the two who knew he wasn't really a ghost, at least not in the normal sense of the word. After all, real ghosts didn't touch or move or feel…

But the illusions were pretty damn convincing at times.

* * *

Ashline quietly munched on toast and drank her tea like a good girl and Garina left after a few minutes. She really shouldn't worry about Ashline. After all, that cute new patron Richie was worth her eye much more…

She went home soon afterwards, as she did not want to risk her health further.

The next day, feeling much better, her lessons continued… for almost six months she sang and practiced, while outwardly, she endured the taunts of the leading lady and the other chorus and ballet girls. But one day, she would sing, would fly…

He was proud of her.

"Her voice is finally perfect…."

_Are you happy now?_

He laughed. "I can never be fully happy but it's enough…"

* * *

It was not a good day for the managers.

Carlotta de Paine was their leading lady, and she'd gotten sick as a dog, was retching up her insides while the Opera doctor frantically tried to do something to help, and they had a full house tonight!

What were they going to do?

There was an innocent little note on their desk, in red ink. Giovanni twitched. Chuck groaned. They picked it up.

"It says that Ashline Ketchum knows all of Carlotta's parts…"

"Oh well, the curtain's going up in an hour and we don't want to refund the full house! We'll just hope she can mouth it well enough for us to get at least half pay…"

Ah, those managers. Money, not talent, ruled their lives. It was no matter. He had delivered their missive. If they chose to ignore it, why, then it was their fault if there were any refunds tonight...

He slipped back down to Ashline's room, only took a few moments, really, and positioned himself behind the mirror. She was brushing her hair. Charming.

* * *

"Ashline…."

She started "Angel?" Why was he speaking to her now? There were other people around – it must be important!

"Tonight, tonight… be brave, child…" He couldn't say more, it might be too obvious if he revealed it, so…

And his voice fell silent.

Ashline blinked in confusion, went back to her hair, sighing. She still hadn't seen him – but sometimes, it didn't matter. His voice was enough…

He was wonderful. He always knew how to cheer her up – and she wondered, briefly, if he was the one who sent her roses, a red so deep it was almost black, and the occasional bits of candy. No, it couldn't be. Angels didn't court mortals, did they?

But who else could have…?

* * *

The Opera Ghost! Oh, he existed all right, the ballet corps saw him often, and there were the missives in red ink, the rule that Box 5 could _never_ be sold, and of course, the twenty thousand francs a month. Money doesn't just disappear, so there had to be an opera ghost!

Beneath the mask there hid a death's-head, it was whispered, and of course, the Punjab lasso… all feared the Punjab lasso, after Joseph Buquet's death… suicide? Hardly. How could a man hanging from a rope suddenly fall to the ground followed by the rope vanishing? Preposterous…

Giovanni and Chuck now knew why the previous manager, Bruno, had been so eager to leave…

* * *

"Ashline Ketchum!"

"Yes, Madame Karen?"

"The managers want you in the office now."

"What? Why? Are they canceling my contract?"

"I doubt it, just go!"

Ashline immediately hurried off to the office…

* * *

Karen watched as the mirror swung soundlessly open after Ashline had gone and Lance appeared.

"Thank you…"

"The poor girl needs some success, and if you tutored her, I daresay she can sing… and after what you did for Garina, making her prima ballerina, well, I don't want to owe you…"

"Garina's your younger sister… I always thought…"

"I know that I'm old enough to be her mother. No need to be reminded of that! Do you think she's ready? Can she really sing now?"

"No doubt of it," He touched a white-gloved hand to his hat-brim. "I'd best be leaving now…"

Karen waved as she watched him vanish again, and sighed. At least Carlotta wasn't here, and who knew? This might just be the break Ashline needed to become a star…that she deserved to be.

* * *

End Chapter

Completed 7/27/05

Lance: Book and musical-verse are pretty close, at least beginning-wise…

Phantomness: I want to keep the scorpion and the grasshopper

Ash: Eh…?

Phantomness: *Evil, evil grin…*


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3… Phantomness is tired… stupid writer's block…

Disclaimer: Pokemon belongs to Nintendo and Shogakukan Comics. This non-profit, non-copyright infringing fanfiction belongs to me under international copyright laws and taking it is plagiarism. Thank you. *Phantomness bows*

Notes: () for telepathy, ** for thoughts, _italics_ if a pokemon talks

Additionally, Phantom of the Opera belongs to… er; Gaston Leroux as original author, and the musical belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber, the book Phantom belongs to Susan Kay, the book Angel of the Opera to Sam Siliciano… I think that's all I drew from…

* * *

Chapter 3

"We never said, our love was evergreen, or as unchanging as the sea, but please promise me that sometime, you will think of me!"

The last strain of the magnificent aria floated away. The house rose en masse, clapping, congratulations… bouquets of flowers showered down upon the stage…

"Brilliant." Brock breathed. "It has to be her. I wonder if she remembers me?" His younger brother, Timothy, was busy flirting with one of the ballet-girls. He sighed.

"I'll go pay her a visit then…"

As soon as she got backstage, Ashline's strength gave out and she collapsed…

* * *

Brock raced down the halls, finding her by virtue of asking everyone where Ashline's dressing room was. He was shown in, as they assumed he had some reason for seeing the opera-singer. He found her lying on the divan, a maid standing by, the opera doctor examining her. She was just coming out of her faint…

"Little Ash!" Brock cried.

The girl's brown eyes focused on him at last. "Do I know you?"

Brock smiled. "Do you remember the boy who ran into the sea to fetch your lost scarf, mademoiselle?"

Ashline began to laugh. So did the doctor and the maid. Brock looked confused, before offense took over.

"I see you do not remember. I will go now." He said, and coldly exited.

A few minutes later, the doctor left. He found Brock still standing by the door. "She's quite well, just had a shock, a little rest and she'll be all better, so don't you worry." And then came the maid, smiling.

"She wants to be left alone," with a saucy wink.

To be left alone? Brock's heart jumped. She wanted to be left alone for _him_! Oh, it was perfect…

Of course! She wouldn't acknowledge liking him with witnesses present, but if they were alone…

* * *

Brock's heartbeat began to race as he began to open the door, but suddenly he froze. He had heard a voice, a _male_ voice, in the room!

"How are you faring, dear child?"

"Oh, tonight I gave you my soul and I am dead," Ashline's voice, breathily whispered…

Brock's heart clenched. Who… who…

"You soul is a beautiful thing, child…" Softer, soft, so soft, but for all its softness, it remained a male voice… "The angels wept tonight…"

There was no more conversation, and so Brock was surprised when Ashline emerged from the room no more than two minutes later, a heavy cloak over her shoulders. She was obviously heading home…

But where was her male companion?

It made no sense. Ashline obviously had been talking to someone. Brock waited until her footsteps had slowed, then flung the door open. The only place to hide was the closet, and all he found in there were dressing-gowns and simple costumes, a dress… he checked under the wardrobe even though there was only an inch or so of space beneath, even lifted the divan – nothing!

"Look here, am I going mad?" He asked.

There was no reply.

Brock frowned. Perhaps… perhaps he had misheard… not satisfied, but feeling as if continuous searching would yield nothing useful, he left in a huff.

* * *

The next morning, he was back, in his role as a patron of the arts. He found Ashline alone in her room, practicing her scales…

"Ashline!"

Ash's eyes were closed as she hummed, and the beauty of her voice struck him again. Of course he had heard her last night, but…

This was different. She wasn't performing, just practicing, and she was simply wonderful…

"Ashline!"

She seemed not to hear him, the scales continued to flow from her lips, but something… something seemed off, her posture a bit stiff…

He reached to grasp her arm, shake her from this trance, and…

What he touched was not flesh, but cold… metal? Marble? Whatever it was, it wasn't human…

He gasped and then there was pressure, and then his eyes closed and he fell over in a dead faint…

* * *

"Annoying." Lance said, unloosing the Punjab Lasso with a flick of his fingers. "Rude, too, barging into a singer's dressing-room like this. It's lucky her lessons don't take place here anymore. Hmm… and I suppose this automaton is no use in the future…"

_Can we eat him, Master?_

"Oh, I promised Karen no more murders, so no, not yet, not unless he destroys things further… perhaps… oh, I ought not to worry, he's young and handsome and quite rich and eligible, and I daresay half the ballet-girls are already running after him! Perhaps he'll like one of them instead…."

_Vicious…._

"Not quite, not quite. He's the playboy, aristocratic type, I daresay one woman won't be enough to satisfy him, and perhaps she'll be able to forgive him for cheating, but perhaps not…"

* * *

Ashline slumbered, unaware, in the room he had prepared for her in the house on the banks of the underground lake. Grandma Agatha knew – knew that the angel was only a man, but she didn't care, oh no. She only wanted Ashline to be happy…

And besides, hadn't Ashline asked him, time and again, if he'd like a wife, being as if he were mortal?

Of course he would.

He wanted her quite badly...

Lance adjusted the cords that held his mask in place, nodding. He'd be careful – make sure she didn't remove it. After all, he still exerted _quite_ powerful influence over her. And as long as she didn't see his face…

It would work…

* * *

Ashline woke up to find herself on a lovely bed, shaped like a Venetian gondola, spread over with crimson counterpane worked in gold flourishes…

Where was she?

She carefully got up, and checked the two doors. One was a sumptuous wardrobe, full of beautiful clothes, jewelry, and a dressing-mirror and table… the other door led to a Turkish bath done in pink marble….

Wow…

It did not quite occur to her to be frightened, the little innocent.

"Am I in heaven?"

Had she died in her sleep the night before, after the performance? Had the Angel of music taken her to heaven?

She bathed luxuriously in the bathroom, changed into a gown worked in white silk, found several books of fairy-tales and began to peruse. She felt oddly at peace…

There was no way out of the room that she could see, but she didn't worry about that for now…

* * *

A soft tapping startled her from her thoughts. She cautiously looked around, and then gasped as a portion of the wall swung inwards…

A man stood there, or was he a man? A white mask covered his face, and he wore black evening clothes that clung to a lithe frame. In his hands was a tray from which delicious odors wafted. Buttered toast, hot chocolate, fresh berries and cream…

"Who are you?"

"Do you not remember your Angel?" Yes, it was his voice, the angel's voice…

"Am I in heaven?"

"If you wish it so…"

Did one need to eat in heaven? She wasn't sure. She wasn't sure of anything at this place, but she felt happy…

* * *

She watched as he set the tray down on her writing desk, and she smiled and helped herself… interesting man. He had eyes like a cat's, a lovely golden shade, and long, dark red hair, almost black, auburn with a hint of silver-gray…

The food was excellent. She waited until her hunger had been satiated before she asked her next question. "What's your name?"

A startled glance, before a smile… "Lance."

"Lance." She nodded. It was different, and it sounded English…

"How are you feeling?"

She considered it. The fainting spell from last night had passed, a good sleep and bath and food had cured that…

"Wonderful…"

"Excellent." A sharp smile was given. "I have only two rules while you stay with me, Ashline… first, you must never look beneath my mask, and secondly, do not open the door to the mirrored room. It has a green door."

Ashline nodded absentmindedly. She could do this. At least now she could see, could… feel, her angel…

Before Lance knew what had happened, she had hugged him tightly. "Thank you. For everything…"

He smiled behind the mask. Perhaps things would be all right then…

* * *

End Chapter

Completed 7/29/05

YAY! EVIL PHYSICS CLASS IS OVER! I BETTER HAVE PASSED!

Lance: Fluff leads to angst…

Phantomness: Angst leads to darkfic…

Ash: Darkfic leads to the dark side?

And, on a completely unrelated note, sometimes Ash needs a friend like Gary. Better than mindless screwing anyways. *Phantomness does not support Palletshipping*


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Pokemon belongs to Nintendo and Shogakukan Comics. This non-profit, non-copyright infringing fanfiction belongs to me under international copyright laws and taking it is plagiarism. Thank you. *Phantomness bows*

Notes: () for telepathy, ** for thoughts, _italics_ if a pokemon talks

Additionally, Phantom of the Opera belongs to… er, Gaston Leroux I believe, and the musical belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber, the book Phantom belongs to Susan Kay, the book Angel of the Opera to Sam Siliciano… I think that's all I drew from…

* * *

Chapter 4

It wasn't hard to ignore the mask, not really. She didn't mind – and besides, if one looked at a god, it meant blindness or death, right? She had been reading mythology, fascinating…

She liked living with him. It was comfortable, and they had the most wonderful singing lessons every night, now that there was no fear of being overheard…

He showed an odd reluctance to being touched, as if he were afraid of her. Ashline couldn't understand it, until she made a connection on the eighth day. There had been a puppy like that, once, kicked until it stayed away from people. Not that Lance was a kicked puppy, but still…

It might explain some things. If he'd been hurt in the past, no wonder he chose to live away from other people…

She liked his pets too, cute, wonderful creatures that couldn't exist in normal life. Dragons, he explained, from the cute little Charmander and Larvitar and Horsea that lived in the house, to the Dragonair and Gyarados that lived in the lake, and the Aerodactyl that soared in the air…

So all in all, almost a month passed before she came back to reality. He took her back to the Opera, an instant and they were in her dressing-room, and she smiled and kissed him, startling them both, before he left her alone…

* * *

"Ash!"

She watched as Brock practically broke down the door in his haste to get inside. "Oh god, Ash, you're safe, we thought you were dead…!"

"Dead?" She asked, absentmindedly… "Grandma Agatha knew where I was."

Brock froze. He hadn't even bothered to ask….

"A-are you all right?"

"Of course I am. I was on vacation…"

"B-but!"

"But what, Brock?"

"I was worried!"  
"I'm glad you were, but I'm fine, really. Now if you'll excuse me…"

Brock grabbed Ashline's arm as she moved past him. "Now wait a moment!"

"What is it? Please let go of me."

"Hell no! Who were you with?"

"Who was I with?"

"I heard a voice in your dressing room!"

Ashline's eyes flashed. "And if you had checked after I left, you would have seen no one was there!"

"I… I did!"

"Well? I am a honest girl, Brock Slate, and I don't shut myself up in dressing-room with men's voices!"

"I… I'm worried about you!"

"I'm perfectly fine." She snapped. "Now if you'll excuse me…"

"Ashline!"

"What, do you think you're my boyfriend or something?" The girl flared up. "I have no interest in you, Brock, now leave me alone!"

Something was wrong here…

Before Brock could ask more, Ashline had fled…

* * *

He was irritating.

Lance's fingers twitched. He'd allow Brock some more time, but…

_Did he fall for anyone else?_

_No._

_ Pity…_

_I know, isn't it, Master? What if I kill him?_

_ Ah, Aeroy, Karen's sharp…_

Pity about that too…

* * *

Ashline reported for rehearsal, and sank back into obscurity as a chorus girl. Oh, this wouldn't do at all…

Pity Carlotta was such a domineering cow…

Hmm… something had to be done…

Lance nodded. Very well. He'd take care of it…

The next day, the managers found a note on their desk in red ink.

"Can Ashline Ketchum actually sing?"

"We heard her at the gala, didn't we?"

"But where did she go for a month?"

"It says she was taking supplementary voice lessons with a tutor…"

"I suppose that's as good an excuse as any…"

"Well, she certainly didn't run off with the viscount… unless he's an admirable actor, which I doubt he is."

"Let's bill her then."

"The public wants her."

"Excellent! We'll raise the ticket prices…"

Fools…

* * *

Another song, another gala, another performance, another vanishing…

Brock knew there was something fishy going on here.

"How… how can she just vanish?"

She'd been in her dressing room, and then she was gone, and… it didn't make any sense! He'd been guarding outside the door, so surely… surely she had to still be in there? But she wasn't…

Had she been abducted?

He felt lost…

* * *

"Excuse me, sir?"

A girl in green tulle – a ballet rat…

"I was told to give you this…"

A letter! Was it from Ashline? It was her paper! Oh, he recognized her perfume! The girl smiled, as if she knew his secret…

"Well?"

"Yes, yes, let me see it…"

* * *

End Chapter

Completed 7/29/05

Lance: At least I get to be evil…

Phantomness: *hugs* I love Phantom of the Opera

Ash: Has it anything to do with your name?

Phantomness: *grins* that's where I got the inspiration for my name!

Shoyko: Ah…

Pika-chan: You wrote… fluff? Wow.

Kairo: That means it'll transition to darkfic in 3, 2,1…

Shoyko: Bloody… phantomness!


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Pokemon belongs to Nintendo and Shogakukan Comics. This non-profit, non-copyright infringing fanfiction belongs to me under international copyright laws and taking it is plagiarism. Thank you. *Phantomness bows*

Notes: () for telepathy, ** for thoughts, _italics_ if a pokemon talks

Additionally, Phantom of the Opera belongs to… er, Gaston Leroux I believe, and the musical belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber, the book Phantom belongs to Susan Kay and Angel of the Opera = horrible book along with 'Night Magic'. So I only used – er, I'm only using Leroux and Musical versions right now.

Chapter 5

* * *

NO.

"You cannot defeat me."

No!

Ashline couldn't have fallen for a… monster…

That ought to teach him a lesson… Lance smirked as he faded away into the shadows and made his way swiftly back to the lair where Ashline waited…

Beautiful…

"Are you ready?" He whispered.

She nodded and held out her arms as he kissed her. After that, everything was breathtakingly simple, and he slipped the ring on her finger with nary a whisper...

"As long as you wear this ring, I shall be your dearest friend, Ashline, but if you ever lose it… I shall have my revenge…"

But in the ecstasy of the moment, would she listen?

It didn't matter.

I've won. Right?

Right…

Unfortunately, even paradise cannot last forever…

* * *

Ashline knew it was her fault, as she sat in her dressing room in the aftermath of the shock, but that didn't change anything!

Oh god, she'd touched him, and _kissed_ him, and…!

It was horrible! Horrible…

"Know, that I am built up of death from head to foot and that it is a corpse that loves you and adores you and will never, never leave you! … Look, I am not laughing now, I am crying, crying for you Ashline, who have torn off my mask and who therefore can never leave me again! … As long as you thought me handsome, you could have come back, I know you would have come back… but, now that you know my hideousness, you would run away for good… So I shall keep you here! Why did you want to see me! When my own father never saw me and when my mother, so as not to see me, presented me with my first mask!"

Horrible…

* * *

_Master…_

Lance's fingers washed over the organ angrily, as one hand played, the other danced, blood-red ink writing in notes on a great stave of paper, red as blood, or was the ink itself blood? Who knew? The chords of fury and despair continued to ring as he continued to play, madly…

Don Juan Triumphant…

It was finished, nearly, nearly finished, and who knew? When he died, he would take it away with him into his coffin and never wake up again, and…

And if she had not taken off his mask she would still be here.

Golden eyes blazed hellfire beneath the mask. "Damn her… damn you…"

He needed more…

He dipped his quill in spilled crimson and continued to play on…

* * *

"Damn you, you little prying Pandora, you little viper! Is this what you wanted to see? Curse you, you little lying Delilah, you little demon! Now you cannot ever be free…"

Ashline covered her ears with her hands, but his voice was in her head and it just wouldn't stop!

I let him… I let him touch me… I let him…

And now his voice won't leave me…

Six months, six months of wonderful lessons, two months of heaven, suddenly bathed in the reddish light of hell… oh, what a change, what a game, what a horrible, horrible game now that the masquerade had ended!

What was behind the green door then?

And if her Angel was the Opera Ghost… the Phantom… the man who had murdered Joseph Buquet…

"Oh god…"

She had… she had… she had committed a horrible sin! No, more than one! What was she to do now?

* * *

"Brock!"

"What is it?" Brock looked Ashline over. She looked ill, there were dark shadows under her eyes, and if he didn't know better, he'd swear that she was…

Was she injured?

"Oh Brock, I'm so sorry!"

"Sorry for what?"

"For everything!" She burst into tears. "There are no such things as angels Brock… there is no Angel of Music…"

"I'm sorry?"

"I'll… I'm sorry, I know it doesn't mean anything, but I'll tell you everything, I'll… come with me… he won't hear us, he's too busy working now…"

Who was this 'he'?

* * *

They climbed up, dizzying flights of stairs until at last, they were on the roof, the sun was setting, painting the sky in a canopy of velvet lavender and gold and orange…

Ashline shivered slightly, and Brock handed her his coat, wondering what she had dragged him up here for. Surely it was something important… and she said she was going to apologize!

Perhaps she had finally… had a change of heart?

One could hope, right?

And didn't… she hadn't exactly been cold to him, he'd been too rude, overstepped his bounds, but now the offenses were past and he would never hurt her again… never ever again…

"Brock… I'm so sorry… I thought," A hesitating pause, "You see, it's all too fresh, and it hurts so, but…"

"Don't worry, Ashline, just tell me the story from the beginning." He reassured her. Had some man…?

"All right." The singer closed her eyes. "It all started about six months ago… you know, my father had just died, and on his deathbed, he said that when he was in Heaven, he would send me the Angel of Music…"

Brock nodded.

"Do you remember when you heard the man's voice in my dressing-room?"

"Yes…"

"That… he _was_ the Angel of Music."

Brock twitched.

"At least I thought he was," Ashline hastily explained, "But as it turned out, I was wrong… so wrong…"

* * *

Completed 7/29/05

Several lines are blatantly stolen from Gaston Leroux, who sure writes a hell lot better than me, but he's dead, and this is fanfic, so it's all right, plus I'm disclaiming it here… other lines stolen from the Phantom of the Opera Musical and belong to Andrew Lloyd Webber. All _I _have is the CD, the piano books, and the script…


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Pokemon belongs to Nintendo and Shogakukan Comics. This non-profit, non-copyright infringing fanfiction belongs to me under international copyright laws and taking it is plagiarism. Thank you. *Phantomness bows*

Notes: () for telepathy, ** for thoughts, _italics_ if a pokemon talks

Yes, this is Championshipping (Ash x Lance) as well as Bouldershipping (Ash x Brock). Deal with it.

Warnings: Angst, death, grotesque descriptions…

* * *

Chapter 6

"So…"

"You see," Ashline flushed, "He had a beautiful voice – I heard a beautiful voice in my dressing room and assumed it was the Angel of Music, and Grandma Agatha said that of course it had to be, and when I asked, he said that yes, he would teach me, since he was the Angel of Music and my Father had sent him from Heaven, so…"

"So…?"

"I never saw him for the first sixth months, I only heard his voice, and it was so beautiful… you haven't heard him sing, Brock, but he really has a wonderful voice, and my own vocal training began to improve until I hardly knew myself when I sang, and when Carlotta lost her place in the gala due to illness and I sang for her…"

"Yes, whomever he was, he did know how to teach." Brock said abruptly. "What happened next?"

"Well… do you remember the night of the gala?"

"Oh yes," Brock said. "You were wonderful…"

"You see," Ashline flushed, "While I thought he was the Angel of Music, I made a vow… I had to promise not to have any suitors, or else he would leave and go back to heaven, and what could I do?"

"You were confused," The aristocrat said reassuringly.

"Yes, I suppose I as… and that is why I pretended not to recognize you when you came into the room… that was why I didn't… why I…"

"Shh, it's all right." Brock hugged Ashline as she began to cry. Poor girl! This story could not end well, with this deception going on…

"I…I will never forget it… not even if I live to be a hundred…"

"Um…"

Ashline finally stopped sniffling. "Oh Brock… I am so sorry…. What can I say? I thought…. Well, I should never have torn his mask off, but now… oh gods!"

"Ashline! Who is 'he'?" Brock was having a bad feeling about his…

Ashline gulped. "My Angel… he was the … the Phantom of the Opera…"

* * *

No. No! But at least she had realized it. That was good, right? He continued to hold her. "What happened?"

"He… I took off his mask… and he… he screamed at me… Look! You want to see? See! Feast your eyes; glut your soul on my cursed ugliness! Now you know the face of the voice! You were not content to hear me, eh? You wanted to know what I looked like? Oh, you women are so inquisitive! Well, are you satisfied? I'm a good-looking fellow, eh? … When a woman has seen me, as you have, she belongs to me. She loves me forever! I am a kind of Don Juan, you know!"

Ashline broke down into sobs at this point. Brock waited, before she spoke again.

"And-and then he, he dug my fingers into his face, his horrible, that horrible dead flesh, and… he tore at it with my nails! And I tried to look away, but I couldn't, until finally, he crawled out of the room and I could hear nothing but the organ, so I fled…"

"Oh Ashline…"

"Brock, please, take me away from here…"

"Of course I will!" Brock said wholeheartedly. Poor girl, what a trial she must have endured… "But Ashline, do you still love him?"

"Love him?" Ashline choked. "How could I love him after… after this? He's a monster, a horrible, horrible monster! Oh Brock, if it hadn't been for him manipulating me, I would have gladly been yours! Take my lips and we'll seal this promise!"

Brock needed no further coaxing… and they kissed beneath the last rays of the setting sun…

* * *

They had made it down to her dressing room in haste, almost exited, knowing what would happen next, but as Brock pulled her into another kiss, Ashline suddenly gasped. "Oh no!"

"What's wrong, darling?"

"My ring! The ring he gave me!"

"Oh, so he did give you that ring!" Brock had wondered, seeing the plain gold band on her finger…

"Yes, but you don't understand…" Her mind flashed back, ashen-faced… "But he had conditions. He told me that as long as I wore the ring, he would be my friend, but if I ever lost it, he would have his revenge! And… and oh no, when I kissed you on the roof under Apollo's Lyre, it must have fallen off… or it's somewhere on the stairs… the ring is gone, and now we're both in danger!"

"Let's leave at once!" Brock said.

"No, no! It would be too cruel… listen, Brock, even if he was a horrible monster, he still gave me lessons… let me sing for him one last time, tonight…"

Brock sighed. "Tonight?"

"Tonight. And Brock, he may try to seduce me again, so if I will not leave, you must carry me off by force! Order your horses, be with them at the door…"

"I understand." The viscount reassured her. "I will not leave you alone, Ashline. I won't abandon you."

"I'm so glad…"

They shared one last kiss before Brock left and Ashline began to get ready for her performance…

* * *

_So that's that._ Lance said, as he penciled in a note. _I'm finished…_

Don Juan Triumphant glittered wetly beneath the candles of his subterranean home. The score was finally completed…

He turned to his writing desk, where there was a small model of the Opera Populaire, quite pretty, with a wax figure of Ashline on stage…

"I hate to cut the fun short, but the joke's wearing thin, let the audience in, let my Opera begin…"

He tipped over one of the candles and watched as flames engulfed the miniature.

* * *

They were giving Faust, and Brock was watching. Ashline's voice was as wonderful as ever…

However, that was not all…

There was roughly a second before the stage was plunged into darkness, and then another, and then before anyone could react, the chandelier began to descend, plummeting into the audience below…

Screams raised from a thousand throats as flames backlit the entire house… panic set in, and only then did Brock notice that Ashline had vanished…

Oh no!

The flames were beginning to fade as firemen rushed in and began beating them back, but that was not his concern now.

He had to go save Ashline!

Brock rushed down to the ground floor and found Karen gathering her ballet girls. "Please, help me!"

Karen blinked at him.

"Don't you know where the Opera Ghost resides?"

"Of course not." Karen said primly. Brock groaned. What was he to do now?

* * *

End Chapter

Completed 7/30/05

Started 7/29/05

I like Karen. But I wouldn't pair her with Lance…


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Pokemon belongs to Nintendo and Shogakukan Comics. This non-profit, non-copyright infringing fanfiction belongs to me under international copyright laws and taking it is plagiarism. Thank you. *Phantomness bows*

Notes: () for telepathy, ** for thoughts, _italics_ if a pokemon talks

Chapter 7

* * *

Brock rushed down to the fifth cellar, the lowest level of the Opera House, a trip that took him a good two hours to make, distance-wise. Hadn't Ashline mentioned something about a lake?

Yes, of course…

Ashline struggled slightly as Lance dragged her down the labyrinthine hallways until she was back in her room in the house. He threw a wedding-dress at her and snapped out an order to change.

Ashline hastily complied, too frightened to protest… outside, she heard the organ start up again, violent music flinging itself against the walls of the house in agony and despair… she began to feel faint…

When she came to, she was dressed in the wedding-gown and laid on a divan. Lance was not looking at her, his eyes fixed upon the mantelpiece…

"Lance…"

"You were the one who took me to bed first, dear child…" Lance's voice sounded wrong, as if he had swallowed broken glass.

"I didn't want you to know that I was…" He smiled, "A monster, but you were the one who touched me…"

"I…" Ashline swallowed with difficulty. "What are you going to do to me?"

"I am giving you a choice." Lance said.

"What?"

"The wedding mass or the requiem mass?"

Ashline blinked. Lance sighed and showed her to the mantelpiece. "Look in those two black caskets on the mantelpiece, there's nothing else up there. Here is the key to open them. There you will find a scorpion and a grasshopper, both cleverly done in Japanese bronze. They will say yes or no for you. The Scorpion for yes, the grasshopper for no… and the decision shall be made by eleven o clock tonight. A word of warning though… the grasshopper not only turns, it hops, and it hops jolly high!"

Without another word, Lance left…

* * *

Meanwhile, Brock had fallen into the torture chamber…

"I won't let you win…bastard! Let her go!" He banged on the thick-mirrored glass with his fists, but to no avail…

The mechanism beneath began to stir…

Flames began to lick at the glass, and the temperature began to rise…

Brock began to sweat…

* * *

Ashline studied the two little creatures. They were very detailed, but how would that help the situation she was in now?

She hesitated…

Scorpion for yes, grasshopper for no… was it really so simple?

Love is a scorpion's paralyzing poison…

So a scorpion to represent love is most apt!

He laughed.

The little viscount wouldn't get out of his torture chamber _that_ easily… oh he would suffer… but love makes one suffer, does it not?

Of course it does!

Why else would… no matter…!

* * *

Ashline began to tremble as the horrible music began again – so Lance had returned. What was wrong? They were just… she had no idea what they did, her hand reached for the grasshopper to say no, and then a scream…that sounded like… Brock!

She froze. "Lance! What have you done?"

Mocking laughter drifted out from around her. "Why nothing… it's his own fault for trespassing into the barriers of hell…"

"Lance! What did you do?"

"As if you really deserve to know, my little Pandora…"

"Please tell me…."

"Oh, I don't think I will, Ashline…"

"But… why?"

"Because love is cruel." He closed the score as he smiled. "It's finished."

"Please, Lance, I'll…"

"You'll what? Kiss me? Make me believe that everything's all right? I don't think so. You've fooled me once already, Delilah, but I won't let you fool me again…"

"Lance… I'll… I'll marry you if that's what you want…"

"Well, perhaps I've decided I don't want that!" Lance shouted. "Perhaps I don't want a cringing mouse, a pretty little virgin sacrifice! Don't you understand? I don't want your love if you don't love me! Get that through your thick skull!"

The wails of pain increased in volume…

* * *

Lance's eyes began to glint madly. "Tis enough. It's nearing eleven, Ashline, and if by that time, you have not turned the scorpion, I shall turn the grasshopper, and then everyone will be dead and buried!"

He left her in the room and she heard what sounded a pistol shot. Running towards it, she found Lance standing impassive against a strange, six-sided chamber, the entire walls which were mirrors, radiating heat… she swooned slightly…

"Oh my, my, the little viscount is seeing lions now." Lance mocked. "Perhaps he needs some rain to help him before he dehydrates. Yes, perhaps…"

And then from another device came a clattering, a dripping feeling, it resembled the sound of rain… and in the chamber, Brock howled as he tried to find the rain that didn't exist…

The torture chamber was a simple device. There was only one adornment – the iron tree that stood in the middle of the chamber. Death was the only escape, whether by shooting or hanging oneself from said iron tree. Heated to the temperature of a furnace, within a few hours, even the hardiest man or woman would find death attractive…

Brock didn't seem like he'd hold out much longer.

* * *

"Lance… please…"

"You are irritating me."

"I'll marry you! I'll…"

"And if I let him out you'll be free? I don't think so, Ashline… not at all… are you planning to stab me in the back once I do that? After all, he's the one you love, isn't me? Oh my, are you surprised? But my dear! You know you can't hide anything from me, not after you lost this…"

Ashline paled as Lance held out the ring… the gold ring she had lost…

"How-how did you find it?"

"That would be telling."

"Isn't there anything I can do?"

"No."

Ashline began to cry. "What's happened to you, Lance? I'm sorry I unmasked you, but even so-!"

"Since I look like a monster I might as well act like one! Didn't you say so yourself?" Lance spat. "Your time is running short, mademoiselle… why don't I tell you something interesting then, since we're about to find out the truth anyways?"

"What…"

* * *

End Chapter

Completed 7/30/05

Insane! Lance = yay

^^ Phantomness is happy


	8. Chapter 8

Probably the last chapter…

Eto… I know I'm twisted. *Shrugs* And if you didn't know, well, now ya do!

* * *

Chapter 8

"Not another word Ashline, or I shall blow us all up." Lance said, calmly. "Of course, the honor rests with you, Mademoiselle. If you turn the grasshopper we shall all be blown up – there is enough gunpowder under our feet to blow up an entire section of Paris, Mademoiselle… if you turn the scorpion, on the other hand, all that gunpowder will be soaked and drowned, and you shall make a very handsome wedding-present to a few hundred Parisians who are now applauding some poor masterpiece of Meyerbeer's… you shall make them a present of their own lives, when you turn the scorpion with your fair hands, and merrily, merrily, we shall be married!"

All of this was said in a tone of increasing desperation, and Ashline trembled…

"Lance! Do you swear to me…. Swear to me that if I turn the scorpion, you will free him?"

"If you turn the scorpion, then you agree to be my wife… you would do so for your young man? How admirable… but remember – I can tell if you're lying to me…"

Ashline screwed her eyes up. She had to… save Brock…

She had to!

She moved up to Lance, held out her arms…

She kissed him…

And then she screamed.

* * *

Lance withdrew the dagger quite calmly, flicked the blood off his fingers. "You'll never leave me now, my dear…"

"Lance…" A terrified look…

"Shh, shh, sleep now, dear heart…"

She couldn't resist the crooning voice, and her struggles ceased, eyes closing…

It seemed as though angels were reaching out for her, and she heard the faint sound of celestial music…

This was Heaven…

* * *

He smiled.

He hit the switch.

Brock's world ended in a roar of hellish heat.

* * *

THE END

Yep, angst! Because without angst… the fic would suck! Seriously though, the book _is_ very angsty. And one would think an aristocrat like Raoul wouldn't angst…

Completed 7/30/05


End file.
